Ambivalence
by The Scriptor
Summary: Albus Dumbledore had laid out the plans for the Boy-Who-Lived. He knew what must be done for the greater good. Except Harry Potter didn't seem like he was interested in following cues and plans. In fact, the only thing he seemed to be doing was to remind Albus of another dark haired boy who had been sorted into Slytherin in 1945.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

* * *

A woman was pleading; her voice so utterly defeated and yet so determined it was gut-wrenching.

Someone laughed; a high pitched laugh that left the hairs at the back of your neck standing up, the voice ringing in your ears, rooting yourself onto the spot with palpable fear.

The voices were becoming clearer.

"Step aside, you foolish girl."

He felt his insides turned turn ice cold.

"Not Harry! Please, no, not Harry — I'll do anything!"

The blinding darkness was frustrating – he wanted to see, he _needed_ to see.

The green light hurtled into him out of nowhere, knocking into him with staggering force.

He caught a flash of a dark robed figure, standing tall and imposing.

A woman, he couldn't see her face, slumped onto the floor.

Green eyes as bright as the light that had exploded snapped open.

The boy turned over, hugging himself closer to the thin mattress, trembling as the waves of fear washed over and over again.

Outside the cupboard he was in, the large clock in the living room chimed, indicating that it was four o'clock in the morning.

Upstairs, three more people slept on, unaware and uncaring of the ten year old boy who was shaking with fear from the recurring nightmare.

Not far away, lying wide awake in the neatly mowed lawn was a snake, its beady eyes trained at the house, its scales glistening in the dim moonlight as it waited patiently.

Miles away in Scotland, inside a magnificent castle that spoke of ancient stories and untold secrets, a quill held in the hand of no one moved elegantly and inscribed an address onto yet another large envelope.

_Mr. H. Potter_

_The Cupboard under the Stairs_

_4 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey_

The dawn light was ambivalent, the darkness of the night fading into a murky grey as the sun rose higher into the air, keen to establish a new day.

The window opened noiselessly and Harry pulled myself through it with practised ease. His legs, sore from lying in the cramped cupboard, protested as he dropped down onto the mowed law. He slowly closed the window behind him before shoving his hands into his jeans and taking a deep breath. The dawn air was crisp and clear, full of promise of a brand new day and a clean slate.

A gust of wind whipped across his face and Harry shivered, burrowing his hand deeper into the pockets of his jeans. The jeans and with that, its pockets were far too large, which wasn't a surprise seeing as how they once belonged to his cousin who was at least four times larger than him around the waist.

No one would be up for some time yet.

Any other day, the thought would have left him happy but today was different. The nightmare, like it always did, had left him exhausted. It was strange, as strange as the unexplainable things that happened to him and it seemed to sap all energy out of him.

He was about to make his way towards the back garden, his favourite and only refuge at this time of the day, when movement caught his eye.

There, just near the hedge and lying in its shadow.

He blinked, wondering if he was seeing right.

They rarely sought him out and even then, it was when he was away from Privet Drive. This was new.

It was by far the largest snake he had ever encountered and he felt a trickle of admiration for the way it lay there, relaxed and composed as if it was in its own territory.

For the average person, finding a large of snake on the front lawn of a perfectly ordinary looking house would be an unusual sight.

For the average person, walking calmly towards the snake would be a terrifying task.

But for the ten year old Harry Potter with his pale skin, the unusually bright green eyes and the jet black hair falling over a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead, this was all perfectly normal

He threw one careless and casual glance at the door before taking confident steps.

It stared straight at him, silent and unmoving.

"Yes?" his voice was low but it reverberated through the untainted air.

Even to his own ears, the words were coated with a faint hiss.

It looked surprised and yet, pleased.

"It is true," it hissed. "You are a Speaker."

It's coiled body unravelled slowly and Harry blinked again.

Even in the murky light, it was easy to take in the deviation from the normal grey and brown colour, the lack of black spots like in most of the snakes he met.

White and black contrasted marvellously and he took in the zigzag pattern with a slight tinge of nervousness.

A common viper.

Never show fear. It was a self taught lesson that had made many things easier for him in life.

The apprehension was hidden in an instant and there was only a hint of curiosity and a perfect mask of confidence as he stooped lower, bringing his face closer.

Smiling this early in the morning and on an empty stomach required effort but he managed. "So I am." He titled his head back. "And what brings you here?"

It looked a bit shocked at the familiar tone.

"A Speaker…" it repeated slowly.

Harry smiled, nostalgia washing over him as he remembered a certain day.

School trips were meant to be fun, or so he had been told. To say that he had learnt to absolutely hate them would be an understatement.

Their guide, a blonde woman who had introduced herself as Jane or Jen, he couldn't be bothered to remember which, was smiling enthusiastically as she told them how happy she was to see them in the zoo and explained how they were supposed to behave once inside the reptile house.

A few feet away from him, Dudley was tittering with Piers and Dennis, no doubt planning to do something that wasn't allowed.

Harry could bet all the meagre belongings he had that the person who would end up getting punished for their idiocy would be him.

They made their way in, the blonde woman leading the way and Mrs. Barnes bringing up the rear.

Despite the lit windows, it was dark and cool inside the place.

Not wanting to stray too close to Dudley, Harry drifted to the back, ignoring the looks from a couple of girls who were obviously unhappy to have him walking close to them.

His eyes adjusted quickly and he saw that behind the thick glass sheets, the walls were painted a dull green. Inside the cages were lizards and snakes amidst what Harry supposed was an attempt to replicate the natural surroundings that they actually belonged in.

He wondered if the animals were fooled by the stick and stones laid around artfully.

Probably not.

Some of the animals were sleeping, others ignored them and the curious few peered at them as they marched slowly with their guide pointing out some animals of interest.

There was an unfamiliar feeling at the pit of his stomach and he decided that he didn't like the vibe that the place was giving off.

It didn't take long for the large group to break up into smaller ones, whispering and pointing excitedly as they moved around.

As was customary in all of his school life, Harry was left alone.

"Sooo...bored," a voice moaned.

Harry looked up.

There was no one there.

Something was unfurling inside the cage across him and he watched, both confused and stunned as the whitest snake that he ever saw stretched out languidly in the generous space.

Harry could have sworn that the look it gave him was one of loathing.

"Stupid humans..." it spoke.

And it curled up again as if it had said nothing.

For a moment, he had the urge to laugh as he realized that he was imagining a snake talking.

Perhaps it was from all those times being locked inside a cupboard.

He looked around, making sure that no one watching him going insane this early in life.

But the snake, it was beautiful, he thought. Rolled up into a tight ball, Harry could make out individual pure white scales glowing in the dim light.

The cage had a sign on it, presumably a description of the snake. The print on it was small and Harry had to move closer to read it.

_Blue-Eyed Leucistic Ball Python._

"That sounds unusual," he murmured.

The snake started to uncurl quickly and Harry stumbled back as it almost lunged towards him. "You can speak," it hissed.

For a moment, Harry was rooted to the spot.

And he was very glad for the thick glass sheet separating him from a large ball python snake that he was sure was talking to him.

A snake talking? It wasn't even logical.

Neither is making things happen when you simply want to, a voice reminded.

But snakes couldn't talk to people, could they?

People can't make things explode, move or disappear without touching them.

He looked around again, making sure that no one was watching.

"What?" he finally managed to choke out.

"A Speaker," it looked...happy. "You are a Speaker."

"What is that?" he unconsciously moved closer.

"You can speak the noble tongue," it cocked its head in a way that he was sure snakes weren't meant to.

He wasn't sure what he felt. Amazement. Fear.

A brief pause ensued. "So I can," Harry finally breathed.

Sapphire blue eyes bore into his emerald greens, the joy morphing into sorrow. "Set me free," it pleaded.

There it was, that feeling of power that surged through him with the knowledge that he was different, could do things that no one else could or explain.

His focus broke as he spotted the blonde woman walking over to him, her face a mixture of worry and puzzlement.

"Alright, sweetie?" she asked.

He changed his face into a polite mask. "Yes," he gestured to the snake who was watching the exchange with impatience. "She is beautiful."

She smiled indulgently. "It's a he," she corrected.

"Oh," he managed to look contrite. "He, then."

"That's right. Let me know if you need any help, okay?"

He nodded, wishing she would just go away.

A pat on his shoulder and she did just that.

"Save me," the snake repeated.

Harry bent, bringing his face closer to the glass. "I will," he promised. "Be patient."

He walked away nonchalantly, strolling right up to the guide who grinned at him and put a friendly arm around his shoulder.

"Look," she gestured to the snake that Dudley had gathered everyone around. "That is a Boa Constrictor. It is the largest snake in this place."

"Really?" Harry tried to look interested. "Where is it from?"

He never found out as at that moment someone shrieked loudly.

Everyone turned, surprised.

They stared aghast as cracks appeared on the glass cages lining up against on the side that Harry had just walked away from. They deepened and he would wonder for days if he was the only one who saw that there was something unnaturally orderly about the way they shattered slowly, the shards of glass falling gracefully as if directed by a higher power.

Harry thought that he would go deaf from the screams as people rushed to get as far away as possible from the animals, the white ball python amongst them moving fast across the floor.

The woman had grabbed him and swiftly herded him along with the rest of the students, taking them all to safety from what only he knew was no danger.

Dudley would go home and boast that he had seen the biggest snake in the zoo.

Harry meanwhile, would keep silent on the new revelation added to the list of strange things that seemed to happen only to him.

Harry believed that if his cousin Dudley did in fact have a functional brain inside that large head of his, it had either retired long ago or dissolved into a state of primitivism.

There was simply no other explanation for his uncivilised manners.

Dinner was over and after Uncle Vernon had had a sizeable slice of the large chocolate cake that Aunt Petunia had baked for desert, the rest of it was handed over to the last person who needed more food in the house, perhaps in the entire county of Surrey. The greedy pig had gone through most of the cake and what little that was saved from the horror of being stuffed inside the obese body was smeared all over his mouth.

"I am going to eat all of this," Dudley grinned.

He had to make an effort to hide his disgust at the sight of that mouth.

"I don't doubt that," he kept his voice nonchalant.

"Your birthday is coming," Dudley said snidely.

Harry tried to ignore him.

"But you are not getting any presents," his cousin continued.

Don't give him the satisfaction, he told himself.

Dudley was still working on getting a reaction from him. "Because you're a freak."

Harry finished rinsing the last plate and set about to drying them as Aunt Petunia had taught him before his head had reached above the dining table. How in the world did three people manage to dirty an entire sink full of plates after one meal, he would never know.

He walked back to his cupboard, aware of Dudley making one last attempt to provoke him.

He had kept his cool. The plates hadn't shattered and the nothing had exploded in Dudley's face.

Harry closed the door softly and curled up on the mattress, congratulating himself.

Dudley would pay for those words. Just not now.

That night, he dreamt of brooms and he was flying, soaring through the air as someone urged him to go faster.

Below him, the same red haired woman in his nightmare was admonishing him to be careful.

"Get the mail, boy." Uncle Vernon ordered.

Harry looked up, his face blank. He wanted to tell the fat whale to get it himself but life was such that he couldn't do everything he wanted. Sighing inwardly, Harry got up and went to the door.

There were three letters lying there. Harry ran a cursory eye over them, his reading speed way above any of the other three occupants in the house.

One was from Marge. The other one looked like a bill.

His heart skidded to a halt at the third one.

It was plainly and unmistakably addressed to him.

He couldn't think of anyone who would write to him but it was for him and there was no way that he would give it to Uncle Vernon or anyone else.

He was dimly aware of Uncle Vernon yelling at him to hurry up.

With blood roaring in his ears and his heart doing enough flip flops to permanently disengage itself from his body, Harry silently tucked the envelope inside his waistband, concealing it perfectly under the old and large shirt that almost reached his knees.

The walk back into the kitchen was an arduous one with his legs threatening to give way.

"Here," he handed Uncle Vernon the rest of the mail, his face a perfect mask of indifference.

No one seemed to notice anything amiss as he sat back down, his pulse racing.

Who had written to him?

Who?

Never in his life had time slowed down to tick so slowly.

He had lost his appetite and had instead watched as Dudley grabbed the rest of his bacon.

He wondered if Dudley being a fast eater had all been a part of his imagination or if the pig was eating breakfast slowly today just to torment him.

The list of his chores never seemed longer as it seemed to take Uncle Vernon a good few hours to growl them all.

And then he spent another half of what felt like a lifetime listening to Aunt Petunia as she recited him the list of things that they still needed to buy for 'Duddykins' before he started at Smeltings.

Harry tried not to think about the grey mess of what was supposed to be his uniform lying in the sink.

Like all things, the agony drew to a close as Uncle Vernon finally left, chuckling as Dudley started to wail for money.

Harry stayed in the kitchen, afraid to move, the parchment brushing against his skin as it lay there safely.

He listened to the roar of the engine as Uncle Vernon's car backed out of the driveway.

Dudley didn't take long to disappear. For someone of his size, he moved remarkably fast when Aunt Petunia handed him money and told to enjoy his day with his friends.

Harry was starting to think that if he had to go a moment longer without opening the letter, he was going to blow up the entire house, accident or not.

It was pure bliss when Aunt Petunia told him to get to work cleaning the garden shed first.

There was no chance of her following him and with no neighbours to pry, Harry simply sat down next to the place he was supposed to be cleaning.

He marvelled at how steady his fingers were. The wax seal broke deftly and he took out what was the first letter he had ever received.

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY**

**Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE**

**(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)**

Mugwump? His heart sank. What was this, a joke?

**Dear Mr. Potter,**

**We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.**

**Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.**

**Yours sincerely,**

**Minerva McGonagall,**

**Deputy Headmistress.**

For a while, all he could do was stare.

This was a joke. It had be.

But it was all too elaborate to be one.

He read it again and again.

And then he fumbled for the second sheet, reading through it at record speed.

Robes…a pointed hat?

He had a sudden image of a bunch of woman on brooms, wearing black robes and pointed hats, cackling madly.

Perhaps this Minerva McGonagall was like that?

A wand… a cauldron.

His heart sank if possible, deeper.

This was definitely a joke.

Except for one thing.

He turned the envelope over in his hand.

How did they know that he slept under the cupboard?

The fear rose like bile.

This was information that he hadn't shared with anyone. No one, no one except the Dursleys knew that he slept in the cupboard. And he seriously doubted that anyone in the family would write a letter with words that they had banned in the household.

The train of thought broke when the grass rustled with the tell-tale hiss as his companion from the other night slithered forward.

"Master..." it spoke.

He wondered if it knew.

"Do you know a place called Hogwarts?" he asked.

For a while, it looked surprised. "Of course, Master."

A flicker of hope reignited and he held onto it, afraid because it felt so precarious.

"It is a place where the young ones go to learn," it added.

It was real then. Hogwarts was real.

He couldn't get himself to completely believe it.

And they had sent a letter for him.

"Which young ones?" he plodded.

"The wizards," it hissed. "To learn magic."

Magic? Was that what he could do, magic?

He had questions, so many questions but there was something in the letter that was of utmost importance.

"It says that they await my owl by no later than July 31," his own voice was hollow and he realized that he was desperate. He needed to talk to these people, to send them a reply.

"Wizards use them to send word," his new friend said helpfully.

So he needed to write a letter and give it to an owl. He felt foolish at the thought.

"Can you get me an owl?" he asked.

It looked a bit certain. "I can try...Master."

Albus Dumbledore stroked his long white beard thoughtfully. The muggle paper in his hands, white and otherwise plain was probably the single most important letter that he had received in recent memory.

The small and rather ruffled owl who had delivered the letter waited patiently, it's former glare softened as Fawkes trilled soothingly.

Albus read through the words again.

**Dear ****Mr.**** Dumbledore,**

**Thank you for your letter. I would like to inform you that while I am happy to be accepted into Hogwarts (which I have never heard of before), I will be unable to buy the books and other materials which you have so listed. Moreover, I also have no idea how I would go to Hogwarts.**

**My Aunt and Uncle do not believe in magic (the word is forbidden in this house) and so I cannot ask them for help.**

**I would be grateful for any help and hope to hear from you soon.**

**Sincerely,**

**Harry Potter**

**PS: How did you know that I sleep in the cupboard?**

The brilliant mind remained calm and concise.

He knew that Petunia was afraid of magic but he rather doubted that it was bad as Harry made it out to be in the letter.

And how had the boy managed to get hold of an owl? It certainly didn't give off the impression that it had volunteered to do the service.

But important things came first. Sending Hagrid to fetch Harry was no longer an option. He needed to send someone who was more articulate to go and explain things to Petunia and to make Harry feel comfortable with the idea of starting his new life. Ensuring that Harry was prepared to come to Hogwarts was of utmost importance, a vital part of his plans.

Minerva was out of the question. She would fume at him and very likely become overprotective of the boy. The Head of Gryffindor had always voiced her doubts about leaving Harry with his relatives.

He could trust Severus to keep calm and handle matters like this but he rather doubted that the sulky Slytherin would agree to go.

A far better candidate came to his mind and he whipped out his wand elegantly, producing a Phoenix.

He spoke clearly and it took off with his message while he waited.

It didn't take long for her to appear, her face the picture of pleasantness and kindness.

She walked into the room with a familiarity that suggested she had been her countless times.

"You wanted to talk to me, Professor?"

Albus smiled benignly. "Ah, yes," he clasped his hands. "This is rather important. Do sit down, Pomona."

The cupboard was dark and cold.

It was a combination that meant solitude for him. He liked it.

But waiting, Harry had decided, was agony of the worst kind.

He was torn with made up scenarios in his mind. Perhaps the owl had lost its way. Or what if the letter had dropped into the air?

Perhaps the owl had died on the way.

It was perfectly possible, especially after the way the snake had almost crushed the tiny thing when it tried to fly away.

Two days had passed and it had taken all of his effort to act normal around the Dursleys.

He tried to drift back to sleep as his stomach growled with hunger.

That was a gentle reminder for making Dudley's new TV disappear into thin air.

The doorbell rang and he sat up too fast, banging the side of his head against the stairs wall. Ignoring the dull pain, he tried to open the cupboard door, only to to realize that it was locked from outside.

What if that was the person from Hogwarts?  
What if he left, thinking that it was all a mistake?

Panic as he had never know it before set in and in a desperate and feeble attempt, he inhaled a mouthful of air as he desperately willed for the cupboard door to open, he had made it happen before and he needed it to happen now more than anything else

"I AM IN HERE!" he yelled. "LOCKED IN THE CUPBOARD! HELP ME!"

He waited, his ragged breath the only sound he could hear.

The door stayed stubbornly closed.

And he couldn't hear anything. The doorbell wasn't ringing anymore.

"HELP ME! IT'S ME, HARRY POTTER!"

Silence again.

No, wait.

Something clicked faintly just before he heard loud footsteps thumping down the stairs.

Someone spoke and his cupboard door swung open gently as Aunt Petunia shrieked.

Harry clambered out, his heart hammering.

Uncle Vernon was standing at the landing, his face changing colors faster than it should be humanely possibly. A confused Dudley was behind him, his brains functioning less than normal at this time of the day.

Aunt Petunia, dressed in a hideous nightgown, was the one closest to the door. Her face was white with fury as she shook with anger.

The visitor was a woman, he saw.

A visitor who looked perfectly normal except for a long stick that she was holding. Aunt Petunia had noticed it too and was looking at it with a mixture of fear and revulsion.

"You! You're one of them!"

"You must be Petunia," the woman said kindly.

Harry caught that there was something forced about her smile.

Aunt Petunia made a sound as if she was being choked. "Vernon, she's-"

"I am here to take Harry for shopping," she interrupted.

"Shopping?" the speaker was Dudley. He looked flabbergasted as if he couldn't imagine why anyone would want to take Harry shopping.

Harry wanted to shout with glee.

"To Diagon Alley," she nodded.

"Now you listen here," Uncle Vernon interrupted. His face had settled on the colour purple and his moustache was bristling. Neither of these were good signs.

"I am here," the woman said firmly, "to inform you that it is absolutely necessary that Harry goes to Hogwarts."

Harry put on his best polite face. "I would like to go, Ma'am"

That was when all hell broke loose inside Number 4, Privet Drive.

Harry warmed his hands around the mug of hot chocolate. It was a rare treat and one he was enjoying immensely.

"Do you like it?" she peeled a boiled egg carefully.

He nodded as she placed it on his plate already loaded with toast and bacon. He was already full but he appreciated her indulgence and was beginning to like Professor Sprout very much.

They were in a small café' in London and the Professor has confessed that she left Hogwarts without breakfast because she wanted to pick him up early.

Harry was still trying wrap his head around all of it. The letter, the owl. Professor Sprout.

He was afraid that she would ask him how he had got the owl but so far, she had only asked about how the Dursleys had treated him.

He had said as little as possible but he had feeling that her witnessing him locked in a cupboard was going to change some things.

"So when are we going to this Diagon Alley?" he tried not to sound impatient.

She took a deep breath and Harry frowned. "I have some things I need to tell you," she said.

He clutched the mug tighter.

Her voice was gentle. "You are famous in our world, Harry."

He stared with genuine disbelief.

Strange things happened to him, yes, the abnormal was sometimes normal but this crossed all lines.

"Could you repeat that, Professor?"

"I said," she spoke gently, "you are famous in our world. You are the Boy-Who-Lived."

Famous? Him?

Why?

A moment passed in silence as Harry stared down into his mug before he looked up to meet the warm brown eyes. "I don't know _anything_," he said in a low voice.

She spoke and he listened.

He asked questions and she answered.

Hours may have passed but perhaps it was only minutes and Professor Sprout announced that it was time to go to Diagon Alley.

All the while, Harry replayed snippets of their conversation in his mind.

"_Have you never noticed anything strange? Sometimes haven't you done things without meaning to?" _

"_Like... making things fly?"_

"_Yes."_

_He did them while meaning to do them as well._

"_So he disappeared on that night?"_

"_That is right. And you survived."_

"_People are afraid to say his name?"_

"_It is jinxed."_

"_Could you please tell me once?"_

_It took more pleading before she finally appeased._

"_...Albus Dumbledore? The Headmaster?"_

"_He is the greatest wizard of our time, Harry."_

_What about Voldemort?_

"_I am the Head of Hufflepuff. It is the house for the loyal and hard-working."_

"_Hufflepuff sounds nice, Professor."_

"_So a badger for Hufflepuff, a raven for Ravenclaw, a lion for Gryffindor and a snake for Slytherin?"_

"_Exactly."_

_He wondered if it was a coincidence._

"_Who decides on which House I will go to?"_

"_Well, I am not supposed to tell you but you have to wear a hat..."_

_That didn't sound so difficult._

"_But what is the best house?"_

"_They are all equal. It is the Hat that chooses the best house for you."_

"_Like frogs...or cats..."_

_She laughed. "I have never heard of wizards talking to animals. But Salazar Slythericould talk to snakes."_

"_Really?"_

"_Yes. He was a parseltongue, A very rare ability though and it is a trait associated with dark wizards."_

_So it wasn't something he could show off in front of everyone._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

* * *

Theodore kicked the leg of the table, boredom kicking into an overdrive as father continued to sift through his mail.

"Can we go yet?" he blurted out.

Pale blue eyes identical to his looked at him sternly and he shrank back into the chair.

"Patience, Theodore," father admonished. "Diagon Alley is not going anywhere. Neither is Hogwarts."

He nodded meekly. They lulled into silence, Theodore waiting as father continued with his work.

"Father?" he spoke tentatively.

Father signed scribbled something on a very thick piece of parchment before answering. "Yes?"

"What is it like?"

"I suppose you mean Hogwarts?"

"Well, yes. And Slytherin," he clarified.

"Theodore, asking me several times is not going to change my answer. I told you, I went there a long time ago. But I doubt Slytherin has changed much. Holding onto values are important and Slytherins do it better than any other house."

"Oh," he traced a nondescript pattern with his finger on the table top. "Can I get a broom?" he asked hopefully.

"No. You may have one next year though."

Shame. He knew for a fact that Malfoy was getting one.

"When we go to Diagon Alley, I will drop you off at Madam Malkin's. You can get your robes from there."

He hoped that he didn't look as crestfallen as he felt. "You're not going to be with me?"

"While you get your robes, I will buy your books and other supplies. You can then go to Ollivander's and get your wand. Wait there for me," he folded something and tucked in into his robes.

"Why can't we go together?"

"Because I have more important things to do today," father replied coldly.

He immediately shut up.

"I suppose we should go now," father stood up.

Theodore jumped off quickly, too quickly and bumped his knee into the same leg he had kicked earlier.

"Careful," father took out his wand. "Are you hurt?"

"No," he rubbed the spot. "I will be fine."

"Tell me if it hurts," Father placed a hand on his shoulder, gently steering him. "Come."

The store appeared old and shabby. Above, written in peeling gold letters declared it to be _Olllivanders : Makers of Fine Wands since 382b.c._

He heard the faint sound of a bell chime as they walked in.

"Good afternoon," a raspy voice greeted. "I knew I would be seeing you soon, Harry Potter."

For a moment, all Harry could do was to stare at the man who had loomed out of the shadows, appearing in front of them soundlessly. Eccentric was the first word that came to his mind at the sight of the unkempt hair and the sharp grey eyes that shone silver, boring into his eyes as if he wanted to divulge all of what Harry was thinking.

"Hello," he smiled politely.

Professor Sprout murmured a similar greeting, her normally cheerful demeanour suddenly muted.

The man, Ollivander he supposed, continued to stare with a disconcerting intensity. Harry broke off eye contact, instead taking a sweeping glance around the store.

The shelves looked old and identical, all of them stacked with boxes of wands, the only merchandise in the place. There was another occupant too, a thin, reedy looking boy sitting on a spindly chair and watching them, or rather Harry, with pale blue eyes. He looked like he was the same age as Harry.

Introducing himself to other kids had never been one of his strong points; it was always simpler to be left alone when he had Dudley and his gang harassing him or anyone he attempted to be on friendly terms with. Only this time, Dudley wasn't here.

Harry smiled hesitantly. "Hello," he tried to sound friendly.

"Hello, dear," Professor Sprout chirped.

The boy looked surprised but there was something too familiar about the way he immediately collected his features to look indifferent.

"Hello," he twirled a box in his hand.

"You have your mother's eyes," Ollivander's voice broke in, effectively breaking off any rapport that Harry had hoped to build with the boy. "It seems only yesterday when she walked in here to buy her first wand... ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Your father on the other hand..." he peered at Harry, moving closer until their noses were almost touching.

Ollivander lifted a hand and Harry could feel a lock of his hair being brushed aside to reveal the lightning bolt shaped scar that was so familiar to his own eyes.

He would have never guessed that it would of fascination to so many people. Out of the corners of his eyes, he saw the boy shifting in his chair for a better view.

"And that is where...Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Very powerful and in the wrong hands... I sold it, you know. If I had known. If only I had known," he shook his head.

Harry was suddenly reminded of the snake from the zoo. No wonder the thing had begged him for help. He glanced at Professor Sprout, hoping that his silent plea would reach her.

She caught on quickly and her hands were soon protectively on his shoulders. "Mr. Ollivander, if we could just-"

Ollivander looked up, suddenly exuberant. "Pomona! How good to see you again!"

Did he really notice her just _now?_

Harry exchanged a ludicrous glance with the boy on the chair.

"Hawthorn, twelve inches, rather sturdy, wasn't it?"

Professor Sprout beamed. "That's right. It is"

"Now that is a good wand. Are you still taking care of it?"

"Why, of course."

"Good. Good. Now, let's see," Ollivander stared at Harry thoughtfully.

A measuring tape, much like the one from Madam Malkin's began to take his measurements while Ollivander sifted through the shelves.

"Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hair, phoenix tails and the heartstrings of dragons. No two wands are similar just as no two unicorns, phoenixes or dragons are the same."

Harry paid rapt attention, his eyes following as Ollivander chose some of the boxes. He seemed to know what was in every one.

"Right then," he opened one of the boxes. "There. That will do."

The tape measure crumpled onto the floor.

"Try this one. Beech-wood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible."

He took it and had barely gave it a wave when Ollivander snatched it out of his hand.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Whippy-"

It was taken back quickly as well.

"No, no. Here. Ebony and unicorn hair, springy. Give it a try."

Harry hadn't closed his hands over the handle when Ollivander took it back.

"Here," the wandmaker held out another one. "Ash, twelve inches and phoenix feather."

He extended his hand, felt it make contact with fingers when it was snatched again.

Theodore continued to watch, his bafflement growing as Potter was handed wand after wand.

Ollivander's excitement seemed to grow with each one that Potter was not successful with while the woman, whom he was sure was the same Pomona Sprout who was the Head of Hufflepuff murmured words of encouragement, her own face lined with soft concern.

Theodore was starting to think that Potter should probably try elsewhere for a wand when Ollivander began to rub his hands with glee. "Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry-"

He didn't think that Potter looked worried. He looked _frustrated_.

And Theodore couldn't blame him. The pile of boxes had grown and was tipping on the danger of burying the Boy-Who-Lived out of sight.

Ollivander was muttering something and pulling out a box perched very high on a shelf. Ever so carefully, he blew at the top of the lid, disturbing a thick layer of dust that seemed to have clung onto the velvet wrapped cover for years.

"Unusual combination-holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Potter's face lit up as the green and gold sparks flew from the tip, illuminating the room and throwing spots of light before dissipating into the air.

"Oh! Bravo!" Ollivander cried as Professor Sprout clapped.

The show over, he settled back into the slightly less uncomfortable position in the chair. Ollivander was putting the wand back into the box and wrapping it with brown paper, all the while muttering to himself. "Well, well...how curious, how very curious indeed..."

Potter, bless his curiosity, voiced the same question he was thinking.

"What is curious, sir?"

There was that piercing stare accompanied with Ollivander's raspy voice barely above a whisper, the soft spoken words weighing heavily in the stifled air. "I remember every wand I sold, Mr. Potter. Every single one of them. And you know...it just so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand gave another feather. Just one other. It is curious isn't it, curious that you should be destined for this wand when its brother wand gave you that scar."

Three pairs of eyes were fixed on Potter who looked surprised...and was it just his imagination?- subtly thrilled.

"Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember...I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter... After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things - terrible, yes, but great."

A shiver ran down his spine just as Potter took the box.

The professor had her hands on her chest as if she was afraid of a panic attack.

"Seven galleons," Ollivander said in a business-like manner.

Potter counted the money and handed it over, thanking Ollivander graciously before he turned to leave, this time leading the way out of the store as Professor Pomona followed.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and he broke the gaze to find Ollivander staring at him.

"Curious, isn't it?" he whispered.

"You sold the Dark Lord's wand?" the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Ollivander looked surprised. "A long time ago, yes."

For Theodore, it seemed inconceivable. The Dark Lord had been here, in this very store and he had gotten his wand from Ollivander.

The thought of him being so normal, getting his wand for the first time, it was simply dumbfounding.

"What was he like?" he whispered.

The bell chimed, cutting through his answer and a tall man entered.

He didn't feel as relieved as Ollivander looked to see him.

"Ah, Mr. Nott."

His Father predictably ignored the man and focused Theodore.

"I hope you have your wand?" he sounded thoroughly bored.

"Yes, Father," he answered.

"Good. We're leaving."

He stood up to go and looked over his shoulder and nodded at Ollivander.

The man looked slightly amused, reclining his head in a manner that suggested that were sharing a secret. In a strange way, he supposed that they were.

He followed his father out of the dark store. The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky and Theodore realized that he had probably spent more time than he had thought inside the store.

"We will head back home just after we get you an owl."

"An owl?" he was surprised. "But I thought..."

Father was looking at him and he could already see impatience beginning to manifest in the pale blue eyes identical to his. "You thought?"

"I thought I could have Snow," he finished quietly,

"She belonged to your mother."

That was _exactly_ why he wanted her.

Father stared at him with that distant look that he always did when he mentioned his mum. "I will get you a new owl."

Harry trailed his fingers over the clean sheet. The bed was smaller than the one in Dudley's room but it was miles better than the thin mattress in the cupboard that he had been sleeping on all these years.

With the exception of his few belongings, the room hadn't changed with Harry moving in. The shelves were still crammed with scores of Dudley's broken toys that had been replaced with better and more expensive ones. There were some books that his cousin had never used except to occasionally hit Harry.

He smiled at the memory of the 'conversation' that Professor Sprout had insisted on having Aunt Petunia . After the Professor had left, Uncle Vernon, who had never spoken to Harry with any form of kindness in his life had taken him aside and told him that he would now have the second bedroom upstairs.

And it seemed that nothing that Dudley did, whether it was wailing or hitting his father with his Smeltings stick would make the Dursleys change their mind.

Several days had passed and the Dursleys had settled on pretending that he didn't exist. If he had to be honest, he didn't care at this point.

Come September, he would be on the train, on the way to Hogwarts and wouldn't have to return until the next year.

A hoot drew his attention and he stood up, walking slowly towards the cage placed on the small table in the room.

Inside, an owl, its pitch black feathers flecked with white was staring at him.

Alnair. He was beautiful, Harry thought. An early birthday gift from Professor Sprout. The owl was also the first and only present that he remembered ever receiving. Old socks from the Dursleys didn't count.

"You really don't like that cage do you?" Harry smiled.

He hooted and stared at him beseechingly.

Harry unlocked the cage, allowing Alnair to hop onto his hand.

Outside, it was getting dark.

He stroked the soft feathers lightly, feeling the slight beat of his heart. Harry was getting used to his presence, to taking care of his 'familiar' as Professor Sprout had referred.

And this, this was the moment he hated every day.

He opened the window slowly.

"Come back in the morning, alright?" he whispered.

The nip was affectionate and Harry watched as he flew out of the window, soaring into the air and fading into a black spot in the distance.

Harry turned to his new trunk, lying open and filled with his books and supplies.

When it came to his education, or anything else for that matter, he had always had to stay in the shadows, pretending that he was stupider than Dudley.

It was certainly a painstaking task, what with Dudley being the very definition of stupid.

Dudley wouldn't be at Hogwarts and there was no way that the Dursleys would communicate with the Professors there.

He was better than most other students of his age, he just knew that he was. And at Hogwarts, he could show them all.

_"I suppose this means that we can expect great things from you..."_

The small tug at the corners of his mouth was involuntary as he started rummaging through his trunk. He wanted to be prepared.

Time to start studying.

People had started to arrive at the platform and the noises were gradually getting louder.

He wanted to get onto the train as soon as possible, preferably before it was packed with students so that he could find a good compartment. The only thing that was stopping him right now was his father's tight grip on his shoulder, rooting him onto the ground.

Father looked pensive, a rarity in itself. Usually, father was either bored or impatient.

"Did you pack all of your things?"

"I think so," he said slowly.

"Hmm. Good," father nodded.

A pause ensued and he wondered if it would be alright to squirm just a bit to let father know that he wanted to get on the train.

"If you forgot anything, write to me and I will owl it to you," father spoke. "Or if you need anything else, just let me know."

He nodded, a swirl of unfamiliar feelings awakening inside him as father looked down at him, a ghost of a smile on his face.

Father loosened the grip and he felt the hand leaving his shoulder. "Would you like to get on the train now?"

No, no he didn't.

Suddenly, he wanted to stay there, right next to his father, safe in the knowledge that as cold and distant as he could be, he wouldn't let anyone or anything hurt him.

The train was had lost its appeal, the scarlet colour darker, the doors looking like invitations into another life where he would have to find his own way, make his own choices.

And Salazar knew that in Slytherin, everyone had to walk alone until they could prove themselves worthy enough to walk with a group.

But he had grown up taught to say what was expected and not what he felt. "I suppose I should go to find a good compartment," he said.

Father nodded.

All the while he levitated his trunk and the cage of his new tawny owl that he had name Scar, Theodore stayed as close as he could to his father without touching him.

When it was done, he looked up. "Goodbye, Father," he said formally.

Father smiled, _really_ smiled this time. "Let me know who else is in Slytherin with you," he murmured.

"I will."

"Theodore?"

"Yes?"

"Remember what I taught you before," father said.

"About...what?" he asked uncertainly.

"About everything."

He nodded and stepped onto the train.

To his right, someone with a distinctively unruly mop of black hair was boarding the train, his trunk lifted with the help of two ecstatic looking boys.

Potter.

When Theodore turned to his father, he was gone.

Harry grunted, giving one final shove to his trunk, making it slam against the wall of the compartment before straightening up.

He hoped that the two boys who had helped him would keep to their promise and stay quiet. He was nervous about going to Hogwarts and the last thing he needed was a flood of curious students who might like them, ask to see his scar.

He was about to sit on the bench when he caught sight of something.

A toad was sitting on it.

He almost jumped out his skin as it leaped across, landing on the floor.

Someone knocked on the compartment door and he looked up warily.

His heart sank.

Surely word couldn't spread that fast?

The door slid open and a round faced boy stood there, his eyes brimming with tears.

"Hello," he greeted.

"H-hi," he stammered.

Were his hands trembling?

"Can I help you?" he ventured cautiously.

"Yes. N-no. I m-mean-" he gulped. "My toad-"

"Oh. You mean this one?" he pointed at the toad.

Pure joy shone from behind the film of tears threatening to roll down. "Trevor!" he cried blissfully.

It made another violent jump, landing close to Harry's feet. Unnerved, he moved to the other side, leaving the boy apologetic.

"I- I'm s-sorry, he's j- just-"

The stupid thing was hopping around the whole place.

"Can you just catch him and keep him with you?" he withdrew to a safer corner.

"Yes, l-let m-me"

He leaped at the toad half-heartedly. It seemed to have more determination in its disposition as it jumped out of the way.

Not to be outdone, the boy slowly circled around his evasive pet and then made a strange move as if he was diving into a pool. Startled, the toad jumped higher than Harry would have thought possible. A resounding crash followed by a muffled scream was all he heard before he saw the boy lying face first on the floor.

He held in the laughter and moved to help him. The task wasn't easy, the boy was a heavier than he was and he seemed almost content to stay on the floor with his face flushing with embarrassment.

Harry brushed of the front of the boy's robes and surveyed the place. The toad was now on his trunk, looking impertinent.

"So, what's your name?" he asked.

"N-Neville L-Longbottom," he gulped.

"Harry Potter," he held out a hand that Neville took, looking dumbfounded.

"Y-You're H-Harry Potter?"

"Yes, I am," he glanced around. "And Neville, about your toad..."

"Trevor," Neville said.

"Yes, him. I would really appreciate it if you could get him off my trunk and you know, not jumping around this compartment." Having no wish to be the target if Trevor decided to land on a human being inside the place, Harry moved behind Neville. "I'll help you."

He beamed at him.

Theodore sat lounging alone and entertaining himself by watching the scenery pass by. He knew better to expect than that the peace would last but the sight of the first people to walk into his compartment made him groan inwardly.

"Nott," Malfoy stretched himself to his full height while Crabbe and Goyle exchanged confused glances with each other.

"Malfoy," he returned.

"I have been looking for you," he frowned.

Well, Theodore certainly didn't have the enthusiasm to actively seek the stuck up blonde.

"Anyway, Harry Potter is on this train. Father told me so," Malfoy folded his arms.

Of course he was. And unless Theodore was very much mistaken, he was only about two compartments away.

"Father said that Potter needs to hang around with the right sort of people," the blonde continued. "So we need to find him."

He smirked. "And what makes you so sure that Potter will think of us as the _right sort_?"

"We _are_ the right sort," Malfoy said with an air of finality. "Aren't you going to come with me?"

Why Malfoy consistently used the singular when he was accompanied with his two sidekicks was beyond him.

He considered the offer.

As much as it was important for him to remain on good terms with Malfoy, he had no desire to march up and down the train to find Potter just because Lucius Malfoy had an opinion that his son should be buddies with him.

On the other hand, Potter was close by so he wouldn't have to go _that_ far.

More relevantly, he _did_ find Potter intriguing. He had survived the Killing Curse, a feat no one else had ever managed and he was the owner of the brother wand that belonged to the Dark Lord. He had seemed friendly enough too, at Ollivander's.

It was a pity that they hadn't properly introduced themselves back then. That would have certainly irked the arrogant blonde here.

He heaved himself off the bench, pocketing his wand and grabbing his robes.

"Let's go," he smiled thinly.

And just to let Malfoy know that he was not following him, he fell into step beside him, leaving Crabbe and Goyle to walk behind them.

"What is wrong with this stupid—" Harry jumped at least two feet as the toad shot up, leaving his head.

It had jumped onto his head.

Onto his hair.

He could still feel the spindly legs crawling into his scalp.

The two boys stared as the toad clung to the wall of the compartment, just several inches below the ceiling.

"How does it do that?" Harry wondered aloud. "Shouldn't toads stay on the ground?"

"I-I don't know," Neville said dejectedly.

"Why is it even running away, did you torture him?"

"No," he shook his head forlornly. "And his name is Trevor."

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Maybe if-" Neville looked hopeful, "maybe if you tried to catch him?"

What? Harry had no wish to make a fool out of himself trying to catch a toad that had no wish to be caught.

Neville's dark eyes looked at him pleadingly.

Harry felt a rush of affection for this boy. He seemed nice enough and he clearly _liked_ Harry.

"Fine," he gave in.

He climbed onto the bench, aware that it was watching his every move.

Slowly, he extended his hand, hoping that it would take the hint.

"Here," he tried to speak the same way he did with Alnair and failed miserably.

This wasn't Alnair. Come to think of it, If Alnair was here, Harry was sure that he would have eaten this toad for being such an impudent jerk.

"Here, toad," he tried again.

"Trevor," Neville whispered loudly.

"Yes, Trevor. Trevor, here," he moved his hand closer.

It jumped too quick, landing on his face as he moved to get it off.

He wasn't sure if Neville had moved to catch him or if it was all just his misfortune but it was the chubby boy who took most of the impact as Harry lost his balance and crashed onto the floor with a grunt.

"Get it off me," he frantically waved his arms as Neville worked to detangle his robes caught between them.

"Trevor!" Neville cried.

"Get it off!"

"This is him?" a high voice asked above them.

"Yes," a much calmer voice answered.

"This is Harry Potter? Are you sure?"

"If you don't believe me, you can go and find him on your own."

Harry was sure he had heard that last voice before. He looked up.

A boy with a pale, pointed face and platinum blonde hair slicked back was standing in their compartment. The air of self-importance around him ticked him off immediately.

Next to him, the boy he had met at Ollivander was staring at him, his pale blue eyes flickering with amusement.

"I'm Malfoy," the pompous blonde extended a hand. "Draco Malfoy."

Potter wasn't half as graceful as he had appeared in Ollivander's as he got up clumsily to shake the hand extended to him.

"Harry Potter."

The round faced boy with dark hair had managed to get himself up as well, his eyes darting fearfully between Potter and Malfoy.

Theodore was sure that he had seen the boy before at St. Mungos with a woman who was most probably his grandmother.

"Theodore Nott," he held out his hand, noting that Potter looked much more pleased to see him. He offered his hand to the boy as well, who took it with a gulp.

His palms were clammy, no doubt out of the nervousness that was so blatant on his face.

"And your name is?" he asked.

His mouth opened several times but no sound came out.

"This is Neville Longbottom," Potter said fondly. "Anyway," he looked behind him. "We are trying to catch his toad."

"A toad?" Malfoy sneered. "If I brought a toad, I would have tried to lose him as soon as possible."

Longbottom made a noise as if he was being strangled and shuffled to move behind Potter.

Lucius Malfoy should have spent less time voicing his opinions and more on teaching his idiot of a son some manners.

Theodore eyed the toad at the far right corner, staring at them.

"Have you tried to get a Prefect to summon it for you?" he attempted to make peace.

Longbottom looked a bit embarrassed while Potter's face clearly said, 'you can do that?'

"I wanted to invite you to sit with me," Malfoy's voice made it clear that he bestowing a great favour to Potter.

"I already have a compartment," he pointed out. "And we're sitting together." He jerked his thumb towards Longbottom who looked at him gratefully.

Malfoy looked torn.

Longbottoms were purebloods, albeit blood traitors.

And Potter's face clearly showed that he was not impressed with Malfoy's attitude.

"Why don't we go and find a Prefect?" Theodore directed his question to Potter.

He exchanged a glance with Longbottom.

"Yes. And you can wait here to make sure he doesn't go anywhere else."

Longbottom's eyes darted to Malfoy and back to Potter.

"We will be back soon," he said reassuringly.

"What about me?" Malfoy 's voice nothing short of whiny. "Do you want to sit with me or not?"

"You," Potter said calmly, "can either sit here or go back to your own compartment."

Malfoy, who had obviously never been spoken to in that manner before, looked dumbfounded.

Theodore slipped back, making room for Potter to walk out and closed the door behind them, all the while trying to hide his enjoyment at the spectacle.

"Personally," Potter muttered, "I think that your friend has a point. There is something wrong with that stupid toad."

"I wouldn't call him a friend," he said seriously.

"No?" he raised an eyebrow. "Anyway, let's go find a Prefect. With some luck, maybe the toad will get killed from slamming into something and then his parents can get him a proper pet that actually wants to stay with him."

He was starting to like Potter already.

Harry thought that it was a downright shame that the Ravenclaw prefect who had helped to summon Neville's toad had done it so well, without killing it in the process.

It was now sitting in Neville's cupped hands, held tighter than necessary as he started at the Great Hall fearfully.

"I think you're suffocating him," Theodore murmured from next to Harry.

He quickly loosed the hold, only to tighten it again as the toad made a move to jump out.

"He- He's trying to get away," he whispered to Harry.

"Yes, I know," he said impatiently. "I don't think he wants to be a pet."

Theodore made a noise of acquiescence.

"They should hurry up," a dark skinned boy surrounded with a bunch of girls muttered.

Harry could understand his edginess.

They were nervous, remarkably so after the stern woman, Professor McGonagall had led them into the Great Hall.

The place was humming with noise as the students sitting at the four long tables, one for each house, chatted chatting among them noisily while they, the First Years, huddled together nervously and waiting to be sorted.

Harry hoped that he looked calm and composed. Inside his stomach, butterflies flew as his heart thudded in a rhythm that he was sure it was not supposed to.

He focused on the scene, trying to divert his apprehension.

If Hogwarts had looked magnificent from outside, it was nothing next to the grandeur inside. The Great Hall, he thought, was simply enchanting.

Candles hovered mid-air and ghost whisked through the air, passing through tables and walls.

At the four large tables, lined perfectly spaced were golden cups and goblets. At the top of the hall was a high table for the staff.

He craned his neck, looking for Professor Sprout at the high table.

There she was, sitting next to a large man.

What was he, a giant?

Professor Sprout flashed a huge smile and he nodded back, a rush of affection rushing through him.

"The ceiling of the Great Hall is enchanted to reflect the sky outside, you know," a bushy haired girl was speaking very fast. "It was enchanted by-"

"I don't care who enchanted it!" Draco hissed. "Just shut up!"

The girl gave him a reproachful look.

Malfoy, his two friends and were thronged together. The haughty boy had gone back to his compartment, but only after telling Harry about how to recognize the 'right sort of people.'

Apparently, Neville wasn't truly the right sort of person.

It was too early to be making enemies but Harry disliked Malfoy already.

Theodore had stayed with Harry and Neville for the rest of the train ride, much to his pleasure. He seemed nice enough, though he couldn't help feel that Theodore was constantly appraising him.

It was a bit unnerving at times.

"Mother said that she would kill me if I don't get into Slytherin," the dark skinned boy said earnestly.

"All of us who know your mother know exactly what she is capable of," a brown haired girl next to him said pleasantly.

The boy glared daggers at her.

Perhaps there were upsides to having dead parents and vault full of money that wasn't tied the ability to get into a certain house at Hogwarts.

What little he knew about the four houses was from Professor Sprout, who had assured him that they were all equally good.

His parents had been in Gryffindor though.

If they were alive, would they have told him that he should go there as well?

From what Professor Sprout had told him, it was the Sorting Hat that decided the best place for a new student should go. And Harry knew that he wanted to go to the house best suited for _him_.

Professor McGonagall was now placing a dirty old hat on a stool, much to the confusion of some people.

Harry felt like he was in an inside joke that no one else in the group knew about.

And then the Hat began to _sing_.

Harry blinked.

She hadn't mentioned this part.

Why did it need to sing? Why couldn't it just hurry up and sort them? His legs were beginning to go numb.

They listened as it sang great tidings to most of them.

"All we have to do is try on a hat?" a red haired boy asked with disbelief as soon as it stopped singing. "I'll kill Fred - he was going on about wrestling a troll."

Harry wondered if the boy was truly stupid enough to have believed that.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abott, Hannah!"

Albus Dumbledore watched as the stream of First Years got sorted.

He clapped just a tad bit harder as Lavender Brown became the first one to be sorted into Gryffindor.

Next, a Bulstrode predictably went to Slytherin and he clapped for her as well.

When one was Headmaster, one did have to try and be fair.

The crowd of first years thinned as more students joined house tables.

A thin boy with a demeanour far too perceptive for his age quickly whispered something into the ears of Neville Longbottom as his name was called.

Harry said something as well; giving Neville a pat on his back as the boy fearfully dragged himself to the stool.

It would be a long time before the Hat sorted him into Gryffindor.

Harry clapped enthusiastically as the other boy gave an encouraging nod to a very relieved Neville.

Draco Malfoy.

The Hat had barely touched his head when it yelled 'Slytherin!'

Harry laughed as the boy next to him muttered something into his ears as Draco Malfoy strutted to the Slytherin table.

The boy turned out to be Theodore Nott who exchanged a nod with Harry as his name was called.

Harry was on friendly terms with the son of one of the first Death Eaters?

That wouldn't last long.

Nott was soon sorted into Slytherin and Harry gave him a thumbs up as he sat next to Goyle.

Parkinson next...Slytherin. The twins in the year were sorted into two different Houses. That was a bit odd. Perks and Sally-Anne.

Come, hurry up.

"Potter, Harry!" Minerva called.

A small thrill ran down his spine and he watched as Harry walked towards the stool slowly.

Like Pomona had said, the boy had grown to look like a young version of his father. Albus wondered if she had noticed that not only was his face paler and the features more angular, but there was something off about his bearing. Harry walked with a composed confidence that no other First Year had demonstrated today. A mop of dark hair growing in all directions fell all over his forehead and under them bright green eyes stared back at the crowd coolly.

Albus was starting to feel unsettled.

The hat fell over his head and they all waited with bated breath.

The Hat didn't take long and he leaned forward ever so slightly in his chair as the brim opened.

"SLYTHERIN!"

A stunned silence ensued.

Albus smiled benignly as he raised his hands and started to clap slowly.

The rest of the crowd joined in, albeit with surprise and disbelief.

He was going to have a long chat with the Hat tonight.

And of course, with Severus.

Harry meanwhile, walked to the Slytherin table, the pale face showing just a muted excitement.

He sat down next to Theodore Nott, the son of a Death Eater who had fought with Harry's parents at least several times with the intention of killing them.

The two boys shook hands as if they were meeting for the first time.

Draco Malfoy reached around Goyle as well, no doubt congratulating Harry for being sorted into Slytherin.

Severus froze his emotions, instead focusing on the scene unfolding in front of him.

The shocked and slightly betrayed looking Gryffindors who were gaping at the Slytherin table where the brat was, looking as calm as the idyllic sky above.

Among the snakes, the myriad of expressions had appeared and disappeared quickly and in true Slytherin fashion, they all settled for the one side that they were all feeling.

Triumph.

After seven years in a row of winning the House Cup, to have the awaited Boy-Who-Lived snatched from the Gryffindors was a crowning glory.

Severus knew that under the smug faces, precious few of them were happy to have Potter.

Some of them were surprised. After all, Potter was supposed to be in Gryffindor, sitting under the red and gold banners. He had crossed a line, a boundary that had been set for him long before he had come here.

Some of them were clearly seething because the reason for the downfall of their revered Dark Lord was sitting with them, wearing their colours.

A handful of them looked curious, much like Ravenclaws who looked like they wanted to research into this interesting and rather unexpected development.

He was suddenly reminded of his own days as a student in Hogwarts.

The Slytherins hadn't been happy to have him, a half-blood carrying the name of a muggle father.

Potter, pureblooded and spoiled rotten by his parents had been very much wanted in Gryffindor. He had been their golden boy with his fancy Quidditch moves and adored by all in Gryffindor despite the many house points he lost for them.

Severus on the other hand, had suffered throughout his years, gloated and bullied by the egoistical idiot and his gang.

He had been rejected by his housemates until they had realized they had use for him.

All the while, he had trudged along alone. Writing home about his hardships had never been an option, not with his alcoholic father and his mother, who was unable to take care of herself, much less of him.

Severus smirked as some of the older Slytherin students whispered among themselves, the urgency loosening their sense of caution as they glanced at the brat.

With the exception of his fellow first years, notably Nott and Malfoy, everyone else looked at least slightly wary of the new addition to their house.

How the tables would turn now.

The Sorting Hat had decided that Slytherin was the best house for Potter, hadn't it?

Well, it certainly wouldn't be the easiest for him.

* * *

A/N: Late update, I know. Now that Harry is finally in Hogwarts, things should get more exciting. :) Thanks for reading! *thumbs up*


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